devvyn

I got out of bed pretty late, but it's my day off so I didn't care. I decided I'm going to head out on my bike because the weather is decent. So, off I go. About five minutes later, on my way to the arcade to play In the Groove 2 something unexpected happened. A driver began to turn from a side street into the lane in front of me. The cars ahead were stopped at a red light and backed up enough so that there was no space for one more car from this side street to join them. Seeing this, I continued to approach the congestion in order to squeeze by on my bike along the shoulder. The car from the side had come to a stop, so I slowed down and passed in front, joining the traffic ahead. For no apparent reason, the driver let go of the brake and the car rolled forward, crossing my path. I swerved around, and being ticked off about this carelessness, gave the bumper a rap with my right foot so the driver had a clear idea how close that one had been. I glided by and came to a stop at the light ahead beside another vehicle.

Next thing I know I'm flying onto the pavement of the sidewalk by the road and there's an angry man standing over me, yelling about how that was his girlfriend's car and she's learning to drive. Taken completely by surprise and not being able to find any words, I crawled backwards along the ground, yelling "okay, okay!" He continued to loom over me and next my nose felt numb. He had punched me so fast I hadn't seen his fist. Crawling further on the cement I found I was inside a bus shelter by a corner store. Still making sense of the sensations in my face, I lay stunned and silent. Blood began to stream from my nose and collect in a crimson pool beneath me. He grabbed my clothing by my chest and poised his other arm for another strike.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I shouted in an attempt to bargain for his satisfaction.

"Say you're sorry!" he ordered.

"I'm sorry! I really am sorry!"

"Are you sorry? Are you really sorry!?"

"Yes, I really am sorry!!" I exclaimed in desperation. My wits coming back, I realised the vehicle he'd been riding in was the only vehicle on the road now. I memorised the plate number.

"You lookin' at my plate, buddy? Look away until I leave. Just look at the ground."

"Okay, okay!"

"Look at the ground. Look at the ground." He let go and left me in the shelter.

I looked up again and checked the plate number. I saw even more blood on the cement and thought to myself, holy crap, he really did punch me in the nose. It's probably broken, too. There were other people around, and some of them had phones by their ears. Within two minutes police cars were pulling up.

Anyway, long story short, I decided to press charges, and the police found the guy and he admitted to them he lost his cool. At the hospital, X-rays revealed a cartilage fracture, and I had a tear on the bridge of my nose glued. My nose is still bleeding. It's been an interesting day, and now I'm tired.

Here's a nice mundane posting.

I'm tired.  I put in a 12.5 hour shift (11.5 hours paid after two meal breaks).

Also, I put air in my bike tires, which will allow me to be less tired in the near future.  I was amazed at how much difference that makes.  I was wondering why even coasting down hill I needed to pedal, and I always blamed it on optical illusions and the wind.  Now, in extreme contrast (with my plump, rolly tires) I can coast so far on such little energy it makes me wonder how it took me this long to realise how badly I needed to do that.

So, to finish the ambulance story, what happened was this:

I was riding my bike down the main tourist street on my way home, my cyclometer showing a speed of about 35 kph.  I had a clear road ahead of me -- at least by first glance it seemed so.  This particular stretch that I was on at the time is the busiest intersection, connecting Ferry and Victoria with Clifton Hill.  Jaywalking is rampant in this area, as is aggressive driving.  Well, a group of three pedestrians had crossed a lane against the "don't walk" sign and had paused on the median for a moment, facing the lane I was proceeding along.  I noticed the group when the leading person took two steps into my path as I rushed onward about 40 metres from the green light--which I intended on breezing through.  I rang my bell (yes I have a bicycle bell) and although none of the bold three looked in my direction, the lead jaywalker took a step back to the median for some unperceived reason.  The body language of the other two shifted to indicate they would remain there as well. 

My traffic light, seconds later, turned amber and I made the decision not to brake hard and stop early but to accelerate and press through the intersection before the light would be able to turn red.  It was of course at that moment the leader chose to abruptly head onward again, perhaps seeing the amber lights in her peripheral vision and sensing false safety.  I saw this reaction and feared the others would follow, giving me mere seconds to react.  Much to my dismay and unease, just as easily as they had shifted into a resting position earlier they were now in collective motion, forming a sort of road block caterpillar formation, fully blanketing my lane.

Brakes fully tensed, I and my modest vehicle slid onward, the rigid skidding of rubber on concrete whining with hopeless resistence below.  I felt at once dread and surrender as my bike's front end plowed into the pedestian at the tail of the group.  The next thing I observed was a young woman laying on the road in front of me, sitting up and making a noise.  Now I know that after hitting someone there is normally a sense of apology, or at least sympathy for the person in pain.  But really, the noise this person made was like that of an eight year old who's stubbed her toe or tapped her elbow on a door frame.  It was an obnoxious wailing, with curious two second pauses between.  Waaaaaah! ... Wah! ... Waaaaaaah! ... Waaaaaah!

My attention turned to my bike, realising I was still on the road and the light must be about to turn green again. It was then that I saw my front wheel, bent like the top of a peel-off can lid.  A brief moment of astonishment over the fact a human body had rendered such a modification to the metal rim was quickly overtaken by anger toward these people.  I knew where I wanted to place the blame; all I needed was the wherewithal to make sense of who was who.

At that moment, a woman standing near the wailing one on the median made an accusation of carelessness.  "Why didn't you stop?  You just kept going!  Haven't you heard of brakes!?"

I would say that I snapped but I was in no shape to lose my temper.  Adrenaline already flooding my brain, my mood stood as a mixture of panic and frustration.  "Haven't you heard of a walk sign!?  I had my brakes on all the way!  They aren't magical fucking brakes!  You had a don't walk, I had a green light, but you just kept on walking anyway!  You didn't have right of way, I did!  You should not have been crossing!"

The best she could summon in response was "you were listening to music.  You shouldn't be listening to music!"  She was referring to the iPod headphones now dangling from my pocket, loosely clumped in my hands as I struggled to reorient myself.  In fact, the iPod had been playing at a moderate volume level, but in case it hasn't been clear from my recount of this experience so far, no audio cues from this group would have enhanced my ability to detect foolishness 10 seconds before a reckless jaywalking accident.

I didn't continue this one-sided argument because at that moment my concerns about the traffic light turning green were showing truth as cars lined up, idling in the lane before the crosswalk.  I tried to stand, but the adrenaline had overwhelmed my nerves while I sat in argument with the standing woman, and the muscles refused to allow sufficient stability to balance me upright.  After two attempts, I conceded and sat.  A couple helpful strangers who had no doubt witnessed the event kindly helped me to the curb where I was able to lay back and rest.

I remember watching my bike being dragged to the median after me and thinking that I wanted to ask the group to pay for the damages.  Strangers who had watched my futile attempt at standing now gawked, and one man insisted I lay down and stop moving, assuring me security was on the way.  I asked him where the woman was who had damaged my bike, and he apologetically told me they had all left and he had no authority to stop them.  I pleaded but knew my request was infeasible.

Clifton Hill security arrived, and radioed an ambulance.  A few minutes later, a fire truck arrived, followed by the ambulance.  The fire truck was waved away and the ambulance parked nearby.  I was allowed to get myself onto the stretcher, and from there I enjoyed a quiet ride to the hospital, allowing me to calm myself.

The hospital staff had me sit for a hand X-ray, and looked at my scrapes.  I was released without the need for care and I found my bike at the hospital doors.  Sadly, in my sore and tired state, I had to wheel the bike home by myself.  The front wheel being unable to turn a full rotation, I had to roll the bike on its rear wheel only--a chore which I found both frustrating and exhausting.  I did eventually make it home about an hour later, and other than feeling disappointed at having been unable to ensure someone at least got a jaywalking ticket, I was healthy and well.

I look back on this occurrence and still feel a bit of frustration.  I was left with $70 of repairs to my bike, which is my primary transportation to work.  I also have a $45 bill from the hospital which isn't fully covered by provincial health care.  Needless to say I felt a bit cheated and violated, but worse things can happen to one and all in all, it was an interesting experience if nothing else.

An observation I made while trying to help a fellow cyclist cross a busy road at a crosswalk during rushour:

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I'm using "Deepest Sender" to post this entry from FireFox.  It seems pretty nice.  It even has support for keyword tags.   ...Wait a second--no auto-detect of Current Music?  Maybe not so great after all.